


Monster

by coverofnight, taintedsoul10



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coverofnight/pseuds/coverofnight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/taintedsoul10/pseuds/taintedsoul10
Summary: Joan and Vera work out their differences after 3x11.





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> The entire premise of this fic was taintedsoul10's idea. She provided me with her original work, which I used as an outline to write this. Much of the imagery and dialogue is based on what she'd originally written. I just spruced it up a bit!

The Governor’s office is eerily quiet as the minutes tick by...save for the sound of the pencil sharpener whirring furiously until each graphite point matches the next. The sound quiets Joan's thoughts, but only for a time. One deep breath and she's back to where she started.

The air is still heavy with the day’s events -- the disturbing encounter with Mr. Fletcher, the resounding  _ slap  _ of Joan’s hand landing on Vera’s face. It wasn’t Joan’s intention to escalate the situation to that degree, but she simply couldn't shake the image of Jianna’s mugshot plastered all over her office. Even now, forgetting seems impossible. 

Remembering the afternoon’s events, Joan feels her blood pressure rise. In flashes, bits of Vera’s face come to her: the anger in her furrowed brow, the unadulterated shock in her eyes when a once tender palm came down heavy on her face. 

The memory is a double-edged sword. Something akin to remorse seeps into Joan’s chest. She never wanted to inflict such emotional and physical pain. Yet triumph still looms large. Vera was deserving, of this much she is sure. 

Rage courses through Joan’s body. A spiral of negative thought momentarily overpowers her.  

“How foolish of me to have trusted her, to have considered her more than a mere colleague,” Joan says to no one in particular. “ _ Pathetic _ .”

Joan extracts a wipe from her stash in the drawer and passes it over her desk. The action does nothing to level her anger or her disappointment.

“Has she forgotten all I’ve done for her? How instrumental I have been in her rise from the depths of mediocrity?” Joan’s voice carries the telltale quiver of emotional pain. She chooses to ignore it. 

“A betrayal such as this breeds dangerous consequences,” she finally admits. 

In an attempt to free herself from her ruminations, Joan rises from her desk and growls in frustration. Vera’s betrayal stings, perhaps more so than any other she’s suffered in her time. It threatens to consume her. 

Leaning against the window sill, Joan catches a faint glimpse of her reflection. The morning’s perfectly crafted bun is now in shambles; her gaze, once powerful and scrutinizing, now conveys a not so muted sense of paranoia. 

All seems lost. 

“I will not lose control over this,” Joan whispers to her reflection. “I, and I alone, hold the power and the will to do what it takes for the greater good. In due time, Vera will pay for what she’s done.”

A calm settles deep into Joan’s chest. It’s as though her iron resolve has returned. She can breathe easy once again. 

Joan takes a moment to sweep her hair back into its bun, then returns to tidying up her desk. She straightens the cardholder, wipes her keyboard clean, realigns the pencils. A knock on the door interrupts what’s become a nightly ritual. 

“Come in,” Joan calls out. To her surprise, it is Vera, still in uniform, who appears. But Joan doesn't miss a beat. “I thought I relieved you of your duties, Ms. Bennett.”

Vera shuts the door and charges her way into the office, planting her feet firmly in front of Joan's desk. “Governor, about this afternoon…”

“Have you come to apologize to me, Vera? If not, I don’t care to hear what you have to say.”

Vera can’t help but laugh at Joan’s ridiculous assumption. “Apologize? I’ve done nothing that I need to apologize for.”Anger courses hot and quick through the petite woman's frame. “You should be the one apologizing. You slapped me! You exposed me, embarrassed me in front of everyone! You had no right to do that! No right!” 

Joan scoffs at the gross display before her. “Is that all you have to say, Vera? That I, the Governor of Wentworth, have no right to inform your fellow officers of the health risk you pose to this prison? If that is all, then you may go.”

“No, I won’t go!” Vera’s voice reaches a fever pitch. “I want an explanation. I want an apology.” Then softly, “I want my job back.” 

Joan’s patience runs thin as she watches Vera carry on like a child. Had circumstances been different, Joan could very easily imagine Vera balling up her fists, stomping her feet, and throwing a full-on tantrum. But Vera is far too professional for such behavior. 

Joan watches as Vera begins to lose hope in their conversation. The former deputy governor’s head hangs. The light in her blue eyes dims. 

“I thought you cared about me, Joan,” Vera says quietly. 

The statement touches Joan somewhere deep, but nothing in it changes what’s already transpired over the course of the day. So, she fortifies herself against all feeling, squares her shoulders, and delivers the only words that seem to make sense in this moment. 

“You are nothing more than a means to an end,” Joan says finally. She stands to meet Vera halfway around the desk. She wants to drive her point home and see the pain of it up close. “Did you really think I could care for someone so pathetic, so cowardly? You are nothing, Vera. You are beneath me.”

A chasm in Vera’s chest, cracked open by their argument earlier in the day, widens. Her face feels hot with anger. Joan's words seem unfathomable. The pain they cause does, too. But Vera refuses to be a slave to Joan’s obvious disregard for her. Despite everything, she stills knows the value of her own self-worth. 

“You know what? I’m done with this conversation,” Vera says as she turns to leave. 

It’s a move so unexpected that Joan can do nothing more than yank Vera back. Vera's body jerks like a ragdoll and for a second, Joan fears her own strength. That fact sparks a rage so furious within her that she pushes Vera up against the window and bears down on with all her weight. 

No words need to be said for Vera to know what this means. Still, she won’t let fear rule her. Joan has stripped her of everything -- a mother, a job title, a sense of security. What more can she take? 

“ Go on Joan, hit me again,” Vera offers. “You want to break me? Just go ahead and fucking hit me _. _ ”

Joan smirks.  _ “ _ I don’t need to hit you to show you my power, Vera. There are other ways.”

That sly smirk on Joan's face tells Vera a twisted scene is about to unfold. And suddenly, a shiver of fear creeps down her spine. This has a different meaning altogether and she isn’t quite sure it’s what she wants. 

Yet, a hint of curiosity prevails. 

Vera’s eyes meet Joan’s. An unspoken question lingers between them. 

“What?” Joan asks, still smirking. “Do you like this, Vera? How my body feels against yours?”

Before she even has time to think about it, Vera’s hand lands firm on Joan’s face. “Fuck you!” she yells. Vera bucks her hips forward, forcing Joan to stumble backward. 

The Governor recovers more quickly than Vera expects and pins her down again almost immediately.   

“ Who knew a little mouse could have so much hidden strength?” Joan taunts.

When Vera raises a hand to hit Joan once more, Joan catches it and slams it against the window. An ache seeps into Vera's wrist; she winces in pain. 

“A little pain will do you good, Vera.” Joan’s voice is low, seductive, and totally genuine in this moment.  

A tear trickles down Vera’s cheek. The will to fight isn't in her. She's never raised a hand to another person before.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to hurt like you do. For me to hurt others the way you do. You want to turn me into a monster,” Vera says through tears. “Well, congratulations. You’ve made a mirror image out of me, haven’t you?”

Vera’s words hit Joan harder than she could have ever anticipated. Of all the names hurled at her over the years, monster was rarely one of them. It’s a word so devoid of feeling, sympathy, and humanity that she would have preferred to be called a freak. Was she really such an abomination?

“See, now it’s your turn to hurt,” Vera says calmly. “We’re even now.”

Joan takes stock of the image before her. Vera’s eyes are wide and probing, but firm in their intent. Her lips are pressed together in a kind of confident resolve Joan has never seen on her before. A quiver of arousal settles just beneath the belt. 

“Are we?” Joan gives a low growl, then dips her head down to kiss those inviting pink lips. 

The kiss takes Vera by surprise and she pushes Joan away with all the force her body is able to produce. Even so, her cheeks flush red and her lips swell with desire. So, Joan, unwilling to let such a delicious moment pass, kisses her again. This time, Vera returns it with a tender moan that sets Joan’s insides on fire. 

“You want it, don’t you?” Joan says as she releases Vera’s lips from her own. 

Vera simply bites her bottom lip. Her eyes glance downward, tentatively giving Joan permission to just go ahead and do the deed.

Joan’s fingers release Vera’s hips from their skirt with surprising dexterity. And in no time at all, Joan slips a hand between the former deputy governor’s legs.

Vera gasps at the sensation. Never has she considered the possibility of Joan being the one to satiate her secret, wild hunger, and yet, as the Governor begins to do so, Vera feels something inside her protest. 

“Stop. Stop, please,” Vera begs. 

But Joan doesn’t. She slips her fingers inside her, prompting Vera to moan into her ear. 

“Do you like that, Vera? It’s what you’ve been after all this time. All the anger, the resentment, the admiration. Everything you’ve harbored in your heart for me has led you to this,” Joan says in a whisper.

For a moment, Vera is appalled by Joan's words. To suggest that her eagerness to learn, to lead, to work was just some twisted, sexual game is a blow to her self-respect. 

But there's a hint of truth in it, too, isn't there?

As Joan’s fingers pump furiously and pleasurably inside her, Vera’s mind fills with memories of the past two years: Joan’s hips swaying beside hers;  the low, gravelly voice filling her ear; the broad, exquisite shoulders in uniform. 

Those sweet memories urge Vera to cling to Joan, to relinquish every ounce of self-respect and resolve she has left. Moans escape Vera’s throat with reckless abandon. Through the thick of her pleasure, she can hear Joan grunting alongside her. 

When Vera’s body gives way in a final wave of pleasure, she releases the air from her chest in a deep sigh. And that’s when Joan delivers a final blow.

“Deep down you’ve always yearned for a good, hard, fuck. And you’ve always wanted me to give it to you. Beneath all of that armor, that innocent blue-eyed stare, you’re nothing more than a desperate, dirty whore.”

Vera stands paralyzed by the words as Joan abruptly takes her leave to the restroom on the other side of the office. Something in her falters. Tears threaten a downpour.

From the restroom, Joan calls out to her. “Come here, Vera. Come look at what you’ve become.”

The command of Joan’s voice pulls Vera toward the restroom where she sees Joan leaning over the sink and staring back at her in the mirror. 

“Come, Vera.” Joan stands erect and holds out an arm to welcome Vera into the space. With Vera finally next to her, Joan lifts a hand to the younger woman’s cheek. “Do you see that? The innocence is gone from your face. You can no longer claim to be free of my command. Nothing can save you now. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you'll never be able to deny the animal within.”

Vera gazes into her own reflection, yet seems to look right past it all the same. There's been a shift, a quake -- something inexplicable, but easily discernible -- in the visage reflected back to her. 

Joan looks on, a smile permanently pressed into her lips. After a moment of reveling in Vera's apparent destruction, Joan kisses Vera's cheek, then marches off into the night.


End file.
